


Killing Everyone

by hithelleth



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles Matheson is a jealous man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killing Everyone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swietlik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swietlik/gifts).



> Loosely based on the song _[Killing Everyone](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zveRfs1mzcM>Killing%20Everyone)_ by Billy Burke.

It was innocent enough in the beginning, when they were just kids, hanging out together like most of their peers, it was what everyone did.

Then his teen vanity, trapped among his dad’s contempt and snarls, his mum’s withering, and Ben’s aloof withdrawal, found the only satisfaction in having Bass as a sidekick, always there for him, supporting him no matter what.

Miles knew it wasn’t right – shooting arrows at the girls who giggled at Bass and the boys who coaxed him to come play football with them. He knew it was wrong wanting to have Bass just for himself, except that it felt too good to be so _loved_ to loosen their friendship, not when he needed it like air and water.

He knew Bass needed it just as much, depended on it, and he knew it was wrong to exploit it, but he still did it, dragging Bass into trouble with him, when he should have protected him, but he couldn’t _not_ do it, either. Just as well as he couldn’t stop Bass from enlisting with him – the excuse to calm his conscience at hand was that he owed Bass, so he couldn’t push him away, because it was his fault Bass lost his football scholarship – but the selfish truth was that he needed Bass with him, not just to not be alone, but because he couldn’t stand the thought of Bass staying behind, finding new friends, forgetting Miles.

They got even more wrapped into each other from there – always looking after each other – both being the other’s one link to sanity amidst the sweat and toil and bloodshed and fear (Miles wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, just as no other Marine would, but they were all afraid, the fear for each other’s lives the only thing making them fearless, because the only worse thing than dying yourself was to see your comrades – your family – die.)

Somewhere between endless tours, desert dust and stake-outs and sudden skirmishes, finding short releases on always too short leaves they always spent together, they became more: from drunken rutting and sloppy kissing in shabby motels to desperate fucking completely sober, clinging to each other for hours afterwards, not saying a word even though neither of them could sleep.

It didn’t matter that Miles knew he was Bass’ whole world, it didn’t matter that they had to play it cool, the sting of jealousy was always there. It had been there even before the Marines, licking at him with bitter flames every time Bass laughed to someone else’s joke, every time some random chick flirted with him, every time Bass blasted his fake half-smile at someone, even though he had that one real smile reserved for Miles. It made something dark unfurl in Miles’ gut, something that wanted to kill whoever stole Bass from him, temporarily as it was.

_“You’ve got me. What would I be without you?”_

It was the whole truth in those two sentences, yet Miles knew even as he spoke it was the final nail in the coffin – however ironic or inappropriate it sounded in his mind, considering the circumstance – the last tie with which he bound Bass to himself. It wasn’t fair to Bass, even though it made Bass change his mind about ending his own life, because it was essentially just another instance of selfishness, no matter how true it was (it wasn’t just Bass covering him in the crossfire more times that Miles could count, or saving him that time in Afghanistan – it was even before, when they were kids… counting on Bass to be there for him was so much a part of Miles that he had no idea who he was without it.)

He should have felt guilty for basking in the hero-worship Bass showed towards him, and he did, jealousy prickling all the more for that reason every time Bass hooked up with another barely-out-of-college girl who didn’t even know how to make a phone call. Those girls didn’t deserve Bass, and even though the rational part of Miles knew they didn’t matter, because they just passed through their lives and Miles and Bass stayed, always stayed, he still wished them gone as soon as they appeared, homicidally mad at them when they spoiled his and Bass’ plans and took Bass away from him. (He never dared to ask Bass whether he felt the same about Miles’ one-night stands and no-more-than-a-few-weeks-old relationships, scared to death of the answer – not sure whether that it would be _no_ or _yes_.)

_“I know what he eats, I know where he eats,_ _I know the women he bangs.”_

The words tasted bitter on his tongue, and Miles swallowed them, jealousy clotting in a ball in his stomach as he dwelled on it _– the women he bangs_ – though they had both done it, slept with hookers and opportunists and grateful rescuees, for appearance’s sake, even though the entire Militia knew they fucked, and plenty of them fucked amongst themselves. And all the time Miles felt like murdering anyone Bass gratified with a smile, a touch, a kiss, a fuck.

After the blackout they became so entwined in the desolate world it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. And every time someone or something drove even a crack of a wedge between them, Miles felt jealous: jealous of people that feared him and succumbed to Bass’ charm as easily as he himself had always had, jealous of the problems that occupied Bass differently than Miles, jealous of ever silly old rules that drove them apart, even though the world had gone to hell and rules shouldn’t have mattered anymore… Miles fought, killed, drowned himself in liquor (and in Bass) whenever he could and didn’t even notice Bass changing. Or at least he pretened not to, pretended so well he even believed himself, but he did, wondering about the reason – another woman, or man, a crazy power lust – anything that was taking _his_ Bass away, and smothering the gnawing jealousy inside him with more alcohol.  Deep down, however, he knew it was his fault, and yet he couldn’t stop, couldn’t let go of Bass, in spite of knowing they were both falling into a pit they wouldn’t be able to save themselves from, not this time, not together.

It was easier to blame it on Bass, to use the rebel’s family as a handy excuse… and then Rachel as the final straw. Bass went too far, Miles told himself, knowing already then he would have done exactly the same thing had their positions been reversed.

He couldn’t go through with killing Bass – it was ridiculous he had ever thought he could – no matter what, he still needed Bass alive, somewhere, while he ran away, dragging himself into the joint in Chicago, drinking to keep at bay the thoughts of Bass. He imagined slim, long-haired young women, the way Bass liked them, in _their_ bed, grovelling officers nodding to Bass’ plans, trying to please him with bullshit (it would be Bass’ downfall, Miles consoled himself, secretly hoping it would bring Bass back to him, sometimes in long nights when no amount of booze could help him sleep thinking of going back, killing whoever Bass was with and making Bass see what was wrong with the world, and then they would simply walk away from everything… a fantasy he never had the strength to even come close to.) He gritted his teeth at the thought of Bass confiding in someone else, coining his tactics with, maybe Jeremy, imagining – well, not killing, not Jeremy – but punching him well once or twice, knocking that eternal smirk off his face.

When he found Rachel alive, guilt-ridden as he was, one of his first thoughts was still that she had been with Bass all that time when he hadn’t, and he could have killed her for that.

He could have killed everyone for standing between him and Bass.

But the problem was that the one who really stood between them was Miles himself, and he didn’t have the strength to do anything about it at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Miles could be that jealous over Bass and the song is perfect for that, though I’m not sure if was able to capture it with my inadequate writing skills. I tried. But please, tell me, how it went. Well? Badly?
> 
> Un-beta’d (and I'm sleep and tired), so quibble away if you see something. Comments are always welcome.


End file.
